In June we took a trip. We headed to my beloved Gulf Coast to spend some time with friends. BEST friends. Best GREAT friends. 20 years before, and many times in between, we had joined these same friends, breathed in sunsets and salt sea air, usually with our families. This week was the four of us. A sweet and holy time. Delicious. My soul is so so so happy in that place, with those Kindreds.
We left on Friday, headed to New Orleans for conversation with more time-tested friends. (Sounds better than old.) This meeting was supposedly about PH and the Next Nine Years. He has been in our parish for 9 years. Would we stay 9 more (barring being run out of town on a rail) or was it time to go elsewhere? If we stayed, it would make PH the second longest lasting priest. What would that look like?
Now when you tell people you are in New Orleans and talking to someone about your future, an image is conjured, voodoo and back alleys.... Don't get all excited now.This story involves no palm reading or tarot cards.Our meeting was with a spiritual director/friend, a woman we've known for years, through 3 states and as many parishes. She knows us and our parish well.
I was grumpy. I considered not going to the meeting. I mean, it wasn't really my meeting. They were going to talk about St Michael's and how to approach the next 9 years. But I went. Right away SD (Spiritual Director) keyed in on me. "How are you? How are the kids? What's happening in your life?" I know this seems highly improbable, but, I did NOT want to talk about myself. For some reason I had a huge lump in my throat, and I DID NOT WANT to talk. I managed to deflect (crazy, I know!) and my clueless husband launched into his stuff. She came back. "Tell me about you." I deflected again. Clueless husband carried on. (Maybe I'll change his name to CH instead of PH. It fits, mostly.)
Now I have to say, being raised a good southern girl, I know how to fake it. I was not pouting in the corner, although I also know how to do that very well. But the 3rd time she asked me, I tried to answer. I rambled around about the last year or so being a little off for me, colored by back problems and a sort of "in betweenness". And then I started crying and said, "I just need to live on the water, and I don't."
At which point she said, "Ocean Springs is looking for a priest."
Well.
What SD did not know was that every time I get a little out of sorts, late at night I go to realtor.com and zillow.com and look at real estate in Ocean Springs. I don't know if I will ever live there, but it is my metaphor??Hmmm, maybe not a metaphor. Come on, you English majors, help me out. It's the container for all my longings. Now that's a metaphor for my metaphor. Needless to say, my heart either stopped or raced, I'm not sure which. One part of me thought, "Oh, my goodness. That would be way too serendipitous and woo-woo." (Remember, no tarot cards.) Another thought, "Wait! Did I say I wanted to move to the coast? I was just kidding. I'm about to (maybe) be a grandmother! I have a great life where I am! I was just whining. Don't mind me. Talk to PH. This is his meeting."
Fast forward to the end of the meeting...SD looked at Ed and said, "You and St Michael's are in a good place. Here's how you cultivate that good place. And you--"she looked at me--"you need to sell your house. Just sell it out from under yourself. Just do it. " (There is more to why that made sense, but you just gotta trust me. Mostly had to do with me and my "stuckness". And some about intention and commitment.Not anything wrong with my house. Which is for sale, if you are interested. Just sayin'...
Sooo..we came home. We batted around the idea of selling. We drove around a bit, looked at some fixer uppers, got in some fights. We told our kids about it. Interestingly enough, nary a one of those children who spent their growing up years in this house were the least bit sentimental about it. Ha! Will save that thought for future therapy sessions about how I failed as a mother.
Anyway, still thinking....ughh. So much work to move... We've been here 17 years... I love my Big Bill Memorial screened porch...but maybe...
Then one Saturday we were walking to the market with friends who were visiting from out of town. We passed a cute young family, said hello. When we got to the market, Farmer Boy(FB) said, "I just sent a family to look at your house. They stopped at the school garden booth, said they wanted their kids to go to that school and were looking for a house. I sent them to your house. And there they are." We looked across the street to see the same young family we had passed earlier. We got together, exchanged phone numbers and planned for them to come look the next day.
Okay. That ended up being way too serendipitous and woowoo as well. They did not buy our house, but they got me going.
Then..
A day or two later, FB called and said, "I've found the house y'all need to buy. " It was a foreclosure. It had been covered in brush for 5 years, a haven for feral cats. Just recently, the brush had been cleared, a lockbox placed on the back door. Ed and I looked at it. And we did NOT have a fight. It had good bones. Definitely needed lots of work, but we love a project.
Two other things about this house---it came with an adjoining lot, perfect setting for FB's greenhouse and further urban gardening ventures. And it was right across the street from FB and his cute bride (DIL).
Thus would begin the Wills Family Compound. Still working on those offspring in foreign countries (California and Northwest Arkansas), but we're getting the place ready for them!
We made some offers and some counter offers. And we were in. In mid July, they accepted our offer.
BUT WAIT!
A week before closing, we got a call. "So sorry, but it turns out the extra lot is NOT included." What?? That was really and truly the biggest part of all this. That was the exciting adventure part. Working with FB and his urban farming has been the shining light for me this last year. Yes, we were excited about restoring life to this sad little house, but what would happen with this lot and the life of the community was central to our dream.
Apparently, a few days AFTER the lot and the house were turned over to Freddie Mac, the lot was sold at auction for back taxes. The folks who bought it for peanuts were not likely to accept our peanuts in exchange. Cashews, more likely. Gold ones. (More metaphors.) So even though we had a contract stating we were buying a house and a lot, that was not what was going to happen.
But somehow, I still knew it would. I'm not usually that way, but I was...what's that really calm peaceful thing people talk about all the time?..totally zen about the whole thing. Not really my style. Meanwhile, PH was a mess. Not really his style.
Cue the lawyers. Emails were buzzing. We were lucky enough to have served up some (apparently) mighty fine martinis to a close friend the night we got all of this information. He just happens to be an attorney and volunteered to "take a look". That was two and a half months ago.
But you know what??
We got it!!! The house and the lot!!
And in the world of cruel, punishing gods, the world I occasionally visit, I know all of this is to remind me....
When I am over there in that new house, missing all the roomy comforts of the one I'm leaving behind...
"You asked for this, Andrea! This is what YOU wanted!"
We closed Wednesday.
Roofers came Thursday.
PH found and repaired the water leak on Saturday.( He's really proud of his methods, too.)
Took off the awnings and started uncovering the front walk.
Here we go...
I'll post upstairs pictures later this week.
